Old Friends Never Die
by rafocy
Summary: Sam and Dean left someone behind a long time ago and now that someone is out for revenge. A little Weechester and this is a continuation from my oneshot Last Wish. If you haven't read it, this story will make sense without it.
1. Nightmares

**Title: Old Friends Never Die**

**A/N: Ok, so after V. R. Jennings review on my oneshot Last Wish, I started thinking up ways to continue the story. This story is a continuation of Last Wish, but if you haven't read the oneshot, this story should still make sense. Last Wish just adds to the mystery. As with Last Wish, this story is at the beginning of season one. I'm not intending to reiterate any of the episodes to prevent plagiarism, but I will let you know if I've skipped past any of the hunts from the series. There will be a little Weechester in future chapters if this all goes well, so anyway, hope you enjoy and please review, I'd really appreciate it. Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: I only own the characters I make up. I do not own the Winchesters and I am not making money off of this.**

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Chapter 1: Nightmares

Sam sat up straight and tried to regain his breath. Sweat was beaded on his forehead and his heart was racing double time.

"Sam?" Jessica asked groggily as she sat up next to him. His eyes had to adjust for a moment, but then he could make out her form on the bed. "Are you ok?" she asked, rubbing his arm.

"I'm fine," Sam said breathlessly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jess asked. Sam hesitated. This hadn't been the first time he'd had a nightmare about his brother and he knew what she would say.

"It was just a nightmare," he assured her.

"About your brother?" she asked. Her tone had become slightly harder, but still understanding.

"I'm fine," he smiled. She watched him for a moment and then sighed.

"Come on." She took his hand and pulled him out of bed.

"Really Jess, I'm fine," Sam protested as she dragged him towards the kitchen. She flipped on the light as she passed it and pushed him into a chair before seating herself across from him.

"So, what happened this time," she asked, looking him straight in the eye.

"I really don't want to talk about it," Sam insisted.

"Sam, if you don't tell me then it's going to eat at you until you do tell me so please, just get it off your chest," she urged. Sam ran a hand through his hair, knowing that she was going to keep hounding him until he told her.

"It's the same dream. I just keep replaying it, over and over and over again," he looked away, shaking his head, "I keep seeing him die."

"You have to stop punishing yourself for something that isn't your fault," Jessica said, reaching forward to put a hand on his knee.

"I know, but I just can't help feeling that I shouldn't have left." They were silent for a while. Jessica stood up and left the room for a moment only to come back with his cell phone.

"Call him," she said, holding out the phone.

"Jess, it's three o'clock in the morning," Sam pointed out.

"And he's called you earlier, for less," she countered. Sam stood, took the phone and placed it on the counter.

"I don't need to call him," Sam said, wrapping his arms around her, "I'm fine."

"You are so stubborn Sam Winchester," she said, brushing some stray hairs off his face.

"Unfortunately I learned from the best," he muttered. She kissed him softly on the lips and they both went back to the bedroom.

* * *

John Winchester drove silently out of California. He had received the signs only a few short hours ago. They had been minor and seemingly insignificant, but John swore on his own life that old Yellow Eyes wouldn't be around much longer to destroy any one else's family. In his heart he knew he was chasing windmills by running over to Helena, Montana to check out a nursery fire, but the revenge that burned inside him was stronger than logic. He glanced down as his phone started ringing and frowned as he saw Sam's number. It was almost 4 o'clock in the morning and based on what little he'd seen of his youngest son, it didn't seem likely that he would call so late, unless there was a problem. The phone rang four times before falling silent. John had already resolved not to answer his phone until he caught Yellow-Eyes, but as his phone beeped, indicating there was a new voicemail his curiosity got the better of him. Against his better judgment he put the phone on speaker and listened to the voicemail. Instead of Sam's voice he heard a female speaking.

"I'm sorry if I woke you up and I know you don't know who I am, but I'm Sam's girlfriend and I didn't know who else to turn to. Sam's been having nightmares and he's worrying himself sick because he's not with you. I don't know if maybe coming to visit would help, but please, I don't' know what else to do. I don't know how much longer he can stand the nightmares." There was a click on the other line and the phone announced the end of the message. John shut the pone, his mind a million miles away from where it had originally been. Sam was having nightmares? Was he feeling guilty about going away to school? Sure John had disapproved at first, family was the only thing he had left and he was so afraid of leaving Sam alone that he'd let that cloud his judgment for a time, but he had always been proud that Sam had gone to school. After a moment of deliberation, John broke his newest vow and made a call.

"You ok? Need help with the job?" a familiar male voice asked.

"Actually, I'm going to have you take it over, but I want you to pick up Sam on your way," John instructed.

"Are you finally going to apologize?" John remained silent and in a moment there was a muttered apology.

"He's been feeling guilty lately and I think a good hunt would do him good, but don't tell him I sent you. He'll just hate me more," John said bitterly.

"He doesn't hate you," the voice assured him, "What do you want me to tell him?"

"Tell him you think I'm in trouble. I already left you a message."

"Yeah I got that. Nice ghost in the background by the way."

"Figured that would get your attention," John nodded absently, "Just pick up Sam, convince him to go with you and make sure he's alright."

"I'm on my way."

"Thanks." John hung up.

* * *

Sam listened raptly as the Government professor explained the writing assignment. The dream last night hadn't affected him today like he'd thought it would. He had been able to pay attention during the lectures without seeing his brother's pain stricken face. In fact, he hadn't even thought about the dream until his cell phone went off during his final class for the day. The background music to Led Zepplin's "What is and What Should Never be" sounded much louder in Sam's ears than it actually was. Dean would have been proud of him, if he'd heard it, but at the moment Sam's face was flushing crimson as he dug frantically through his bag.

"Expecting a special call Mr. Winchester?" the professor asked.

"Uh, no. Sorry Professor Maxwell," Sam quickly fumbled for the silence button and ended the music.

"Then turn it off," Maxwell ordered. Sam nodded and turned his phone off. He usually kept it off during class, but for some reason he'd felt the need to keep it on. "Now, as I was saying, you will need to have six pages double spaced and a sources cited page. Papers will be due on my desk no later than the 24th. Understood?" The class nodded obediently, "Alright, then have a good weekend and please, please get started on this early." The students filed slowly out of the class room discussing their topics.

"So, what are you doing your paper on?" Claire Manes asked Sam as he was loading his books. She was short and thin with long dark hair that fell in waves down her back. Her brown eyes were always wide open and her olive toned skin was always flawless.

"I've got a few ideas, but I'm not quite sure yet," Sam answered, "What about you?"

"I don't know," she shrugged helplessly, "I was thinking about doing it on abortion, but Professor Maxwell already told us we couldn't do that." By this point they were outside the classroom.

"Don't worry, Claire, you'll think of something," Sam assured her.

"Thanks Sam. You're always so positive," she smiled brightly at him, "We'll I'll see you on Monday." He smiled and nodded before heading off to meet Jessica. They had planned on having lunch at a restaurant just off campus and the day looked nice enough to be able to sit outside. He'd hardly stepped out of the building when he spotted her walking ahead of him.

"Jess!" he called and jogged towards her. She stopped and waited for him to catch up. She kissed him briefly.

"So Maggie just told me your phone went off during class," she teased.

"Yeah, I guess I forgot to turn it off," Sam grinned sheepishly. He pulled out his phone to see who had called him during class.

"I didn't know you listened to rock," Jess commented.

"I usually don't," he admitted, "I think my brother go a hold of my phone before I left and I just haven't …changed… it…back." Sam frowned as he reached the missed calls section.

"Sam what's wrong?" Jess asked, trying to peer over at the phone. He couldn't answer. His stomach was twisting into that familiar ball of dread as he stared down at the all too familiar number.

**

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So was it ok? I wrote this to fill in some of the holes from Last Wish, but again, if you haven't read it, this story should still make sense. Please review; let me know if anything was confusing or really good, or really bad. Thanks!


	2. Reunited

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A/N: Ok, so a few things here so nobody is confused, the bolded italicized parts are memories and the parts that are just italicized are Sam's dreams. I didn't want to go through the whole season one episode 1, so I paraphrased. Ok, so a few reviews for the last chapter had me concerned. For the record, Dean is NOT dead. I couldn't kill him…yet : ) and hey, maybe Sam will save him????? So just to keep anyone from being confused, Last Wish is the dream Sam wakes up from in chapter 1. Anyways, thanks for reading and enjoy! Oh and I brought back Claire from chapter 1. (I knew there was a reason I had such a clear description of her in my head)

**Disclaimer: I do not own supernatural or the Winchesters. Only the people I make up. **

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Chapter 2: Reunited

Sam had recognized his father's number, but had no intention of calling him back. What could he possibly have to say? He'd already heard the "you're making a huge mistake," and "family's all you have" speeches, what else was there? His good day had been turned upside down by the seemingly spontaneous phone call. He hadn't spoken to his father for a reason and he'd thought they'd both understood that.

"I don't understand why you're making such a big deal out of this," Jess said, trying for the third time to make him talk to her.

"All this time and he never once called me. Why now?" Sam asked, staring off into space, "What could he possibly have to rub in my face this time?"

"Maybe he wants to check up on you," she suggested innocently. It was then that he caught a twinge of guilt in her voice. He frowned and looked over at her as her gaze suddenly dropped to their linked hands.

"What's wrong?" he asked, feeling guilty himself for not noticing that she was upset.

"Well…I called him last night," she said, slowly brining her gaze back to his, "I just wanted you to feel better. I didn't know what else to do."

"Wait, you called my father?" Sam asked, sounding both relieved and amused.

"He didn't answer so I left a message," she explained.

"You must have really ripped him a new one for him to call be back like this," he grinned.

"Not really. I just told him you were having nightmares and he should come and visit," she shrugged.

"Thanks for the thought, but he's not going to visit," Sam assured her, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe you should call him and _convince_ him to visit," she suggested.

"Trust me. You do not want to meet my dad," Sam said.

"I still want to meet him, despite how much you seem to not want me to," she said, watching his face carefully. Sam shook his head, refusing to give in. He still didn't particularly enjoy the thought that he might have to call John back, but perhaps if the man cared enough to call, then maybe, just maybe Sam could care enough to call back. "I have to go to work. Call him," Jessica ordered, giving him a quick kiss before pulling away, "Call him today."

* * *

John hadn't bothered trying to call Sam again. He knew his son well enough to know that he didn't expect a call back. At the moment, John was waiting impatiently in the police station, waiting to get more information on the fire that had occurred in a small home near the outskirts of Helena.

"Here you go," the deputy sheriff said, reappearing from an office in back with a thick brown folder, "This is everything on the Mansfield case. Why's the FBI interested in a house fire anyway?"

"There's an arsonist on the loose," John said, taking the folder, "This sounds like his handiwork." The deputy nodded understandingly; though John had a feeling this guy didn't have a clue. "Thanks for this," John said, holding up the folder. He didn't wait for a response before walking out the front door. He climbed into his car and tossed the folder into the passenger's seat. He needed sleep, but the thought that he might gain a few more clues towards the location of the demon made him restless. His thoughts turned back to Sam briefly. Was he really upset about leaving? Had John pushed too far by telling that if he left to stay gone? John shrugged off the guilt and focused on the case ahead of him. Based on how quickly this monster moved after attacking, assuming he hadn't already left, there wasn't much time before Yellow eyes decided to move on to his next victim and John Winchester was going to do everything in his power to keep him from moving on.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

* * *

It had been two hours since Sam had left the apartment, in the middle of the night, no less, to find his father. He'd been rudely awakened by the sound of the window being opened and then being tackled to the ground by a familiar and somewhat aggravating prowler.

…………

_**"Dean?" Sam asked, incredulously as Dean's face was illuminated in the moonlight, "You scared the crap out of me."**_

"_**That's 'cause you're out of practice," Dean smirked. It only took Sam about five seconds to switch their positions so he was pinning Dean to the floor instead of the other way around. "Or maybe not. Get off me." **_

"_**What are you doing here Dean?" Sam demanded, helping his older brother to his feet.**_

"_**Well I was looking for a beer," Dean answered.**_

"_**What the hell are you doing here," Sam repeated. **_

"_**Ok, ok, we need to talk," Dean admitted. **_

"_**Uh, the phone," Sam pointed out. **_

"_**If I'd called would you have picked up?" Dean countered. Sam didn't answer, feeling a twinge of guilt because he hadn't quite gotten around to calling his father back.**_

............

Sam had been drifting in and out of sleep since they'd left. Neither of them really wanted to talk and the silence wasn't uncomfortable. Grateful that his brother always drove, Sam closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

_

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_

It was dark and there was a fine mist falling. Sam was staring at his brother furiously.

"_Dad was the one who told me to leave," he said angrily, "He was the one that hung up on me." Dean was half illuminated by the lights from the motel behind him. He shook his head and turned his back on Sam, who was still seething._

"_You just keep telling yourself that Sammy," he said quietly, "Just keep telling yourself that."_

"_Dean Winchester. You just don't want to die do you?" A figure detached itself from the shadows just around the edge of the building. Sam's jaw dropped as he recognized Claire Manes. She was holding a gun and pointing it right at Dean's chest._

"_Claire?" Sam choked out. Claire ignored him._

"_I thought I'd gotten you for sure when I shot you at that motel two years ago, but I guess my aim just isn't what it used to be," Claire said, stepping forward._

"_I wanted to tell you, but when I found out you hadn't come to the hospital…I just thought it would be better if we had a clean break," Dean said, sounding more resigned, than scared. Sam looked confusedly between his brother and his former classmate. How did Dean know Claire?_

"_A clean break? I cried after you for years, wondering what the hell I'd done wrong," Claire said angrily, taking another step forward._

"_Claire, lets just talk this out ok?" Sam said, starting to step between her and his brother. He didn't understand what was going on, but he wasn't going to let Dean die, or let Claire become a murderer._

"_Don't move," Claire ordered, swinging the gun on Sam._

"_Whoa, hey," Dean, stepped forward, "This is between you and me, leave Sam out of it."_

"_Fine. If that's what you want." Pointing the gun back at Dean she pulled the trigger._

* * *

Sam jerked awake as the gunshot from his dream rang in his ears.

"You ok?" Dean asked, glancing over at him. They were still in the car and according to the clock on the dashboard, it had only been an hour since he'd fallen asleep.

"I'm fine," Sam muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"Was it another nightmare?" Dean asked.

"I'm f…wait _another_ nightmare?" Sam asked suspiciously.

"Yeah…you…had nightmares all the time when you were a kid," Dean responded after a moment of silence.

"No I didn't," Sam responded.

"It doesn't matter alright," Dean said shortly. Sam was about to respond when he remembered Jessica had called John desperate to make him feel better. Was it that much of a stretch to believe she'd called Dean too?

"Did Jessica call you?" Sam asked no trace of accusation in his voice.

"She didn't want me to say anything," Dean shrugged. They lapsed back into silence. Sam was still exhausted, but at the risk of watching his brother die in his dreams, he fought off the fatigue.

"So, what were you hunting? Without dad I mean?" he asked, trying to keep himself awake.

"Just a simple salt and burn," Dean answered, "A spirit was haunting a convenience store."

"Was it killing people?" Sam asked.

"No," Dean grinned, "It was chucking canned foods at the customers." Sam couldn't help but grin back. What kind of a ghost threw food at people for revenge?

"Well that's different," he commented.

"No kidding. I wish every job was that easy and non-bloody." They lapsed back into silence. Dean was silently thankful that Sam had suggested Jessica had called him. To be honest he'd thought John had lost his mind by calling to tell him to take Sammy out on a hunt. The younger Winchester had always struggled against the family business and Dean didn't think Sam would stop having nightmares by hunting a ghost, but he was not one to go against his father.

"So how long have you been going on hunts by yourself?" Sam asked.

"Last year or so," Dean shrugged, "I mean I still hunt with dad for the most part, but we've been taking separate hunts and meeting up afterwards."

"So if you've been doing this by yourself so long why do you need me to come?"

"I don't _need _you to come, I just _want_ you to come," Dean corrected, glancing sideway at his little brother.

"Why?" Sam repeated, "I mean like you said, you haven't bothered me in two years. Why now all of a sudden do you want my help?"

"This is dad we're talking about. Doesn't that mean anything to you? He's all we have Sammy, I just thought you'd care enough to want to find him," Dean said harshly. Sam didn't wince at the insult. Dean knew how he felt about their father and in truth he did care that John had gone missing, but he'd been _missing _more than once and he'd always turned up sooner or later. Sam wasn't really in the mood for an argument right now, in fact that had been one of his reasons why he hadn't called his father back, so he remained silent. He was too tired to care how Dean was interpreting the silence and in almost no time he had fallen asleep again picking up the dream right where he'd left off.

_

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_

"Dean?" Sam knelt down beside his brother. The gun Claire was holding was still smoking from being fired. Dean was lying motionless on the wet cement. His eyes staring vacantly up at the sky as blood began soaking his t-shirt. Sam felt the tears start to spill over as he looked back up at Claire. "What did you do?" he whispered.

"_Oh, Sammy. Sweet innocent Sammy. I thought for sure you would have recognized me when we met up at school, but I suppose we've both grown up quite a bit," Claire said, taking slow measured steps towards him._

"_Who are you?" Sam asked. _

"_Surely you remember," she said, squatting down in front of him, "After all, I love kids."_

* * *

­­­"Sam," Dean shook his little brother. He had pulled into a gas station to fill up and get some food. Sam jumped a little and opened his eyes, looking startled and confused. Dean's eyebrows furrowed slightly. Maybe the nightmares were worse then John had suggested.

"Where are we?" Sam asked, his face smoothing out as he got his bearings.

"We're about twenty minutes from where the last disappearance was," Dean said, opening the door. Sam nodded and ran a hand through his hair. Dean shut the car door and started filling up the car before stepping into the little gas station convenience store.

"Morning," the man behind the counter greeted. Dean nodded his head and went straight to the food isle. He wasn't completely paying attention to what he was grabbing as he moved down the isle. He had wondered more then once how Sam was getting along on his own. The youngest Winchester had always been self-sufficient and smart. Neither Dean nor John had ever had any doubt that Sam would be able to make it on his own, but Dean had always felt the need to protect his little brother. He'd been Sam's guardian since their mother had died and he'd taken the job very seriously. It had killed him seeing Sammy walk away that night two years ago and he'd had half a mind to chase after him, but he'd just watched, hoping Sam would come to his senses and come back. It wasn't the first time he'd run off and it probably wouldn't be the last. Dean hadn't realized that he was at the counter until the cashier told him the cost of the items he'd picked up. Dean paid him and walked out. He hoped that this hunt would make Sam see that they weren't destined to live normal lives. They were supposed to be hunters, protecting those naïve enough to believe there weren't monsters lurking around every corner. Dean would make Sam see that by the end of this trip. He would prove to his little brother once and for all that they were supposed to stick together as a family. They were the last remaining Winchesters and Dean wasn't about to let his family be split up again.

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Sorry this chapter's kind of dry and I don't think I really got the timing right but....oh well. I'll try to make the next one more interesting. Anyway, please review. I would love, love, love, to hear your input. Anything to make my story more enjoyable to you readers. Thanks to everyone who reviewe the last chapter and for those who review Last !


	3. Flashback

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, I had a litte bit of writer's block. Ok so I'm skipping ahead a few episodes for times sake and it also adds to the crazy, Sam's there physically, but mentally as he's still grieving over Jessica (I'm skipping over her death scene only because I don't want to plagiarize the series). Anyway, here's the next chapter. Please review! Thanks! Oh and the beginning of this chapter is NOT a flashback. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Winchesters or the Supernatural series. I am making no money off of this.**

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Chapter 3: Flashback

It had been months since Sam had gone off with Dean after Jessica's murder. Sam had been moody at times, but Dean had put up with it simply because he loved his brother and he was just glad they were together again. Now all they had to do was find John and they could be like they used to be. Not quite a _normal_ family, but at least one that stuck together. So far the brothers had put the woman in white to rest, burnt the wendigo to a crisp, taken care of the ghost in the lake and had kept a plane from crashing.

"It looks like something is in Quincy, Illinois," Sam commented, reading through the newspaper article on his computer screen. They had stopped in Omaha, Nebraska for lunch and to decide where to go next.

"We've been to Quincy you know," Dean said. Sam looked up at the quiet somewhat saddened way his brother had spoken. Dean was poking a French fry through what remained of the ketchup pile that had been on the plate.

"Yeah, I remember," Sam said, searching Dean's face, "Dad was a town over taking care of a witch or something." Dean nodded seemingly preoccupied by the way the ketchup was dripping off the fry. "Are you ok?" Sam asked.

"What? Yeah, I'm fine," Dean said looking up. He grinned to prove that he was ok, but Sam had spent enough time with him over the years to still be able to see the pain behind the green eyes.

"Dean, what's wrong? Are you worried about dad?" Sam asked hesitantly.

"No, its not dad," Dean said, looking away, "It's just…I don't know. Quincy really isn't my first choice when it comes to going back, that's all."

"Is this because of that girl you were dating?" Sam asked gently. He felt bad calling her that, but he couldn't for the life of him, remember her name.

"Lindsey? No, no, that's way over," Dean said, trying to push his little brother's worries off to the side, "So, what's haunting Illinois now?"

"Uh, well apparently a young girl was attacked. Says here Stephanie Walker returned home late Friday night severely beaten by what she said was a ghost of her late brother. The interesting thing is that by the next day the bruises were gone and Stephanie doesn't remember a thing about the attack," Sam explained looking back at his computer.

"Was she the only one?" Dean asked, now all business and no hint of sadness in his voice.

"No, it looks like there were two other attacks in the past few months and it looks like the other two victims went through the same thing," Sam said, scanning the article, "Stumbling home bruised and bleeding one night, claiming they saw a ghost and the next day they're completely healed. Doctors can't decide whether to call these miracles or hallucinations, but hallucinations are hard to prove considering there are witnesses who saw states of the victims before they were healed overnight."

"Ok so we have a what? I've never heard of something being able to or even wanting to heal their victims," Dean said. Sam shook his head, also confused.

"Maybe it's a spirit reenacting its death on others. The victim could only look beaten and then in the morning not show any signs of the attack. Ghosts have been known to produce artificial wounds haven't they?" Sam asked, looking back up at his brother.

"Maybe, but usually the ghost is taken care of before the victims return to normal," Dean pointed out.

"Well I say its worth checking out," Sam shrugged, "Unless you'd rather…"

"Lets go gank us a spirit," Dean interrupted, tossing the money for the meal down on the table. Sam shut his computer and followed Dean out the door. Lindsey. Her name had been Lindsey and from what he could remember Dean had been quite taken with her. Dean had been sixteen and Sam had been twelve when they'd first visited Quincy. They'd gone to a small all grades school for a few days while John had been hunting elsewhere. Dean had spent every free moment he had with Lindsey and because of Dean's over protectiveness Sam had also been forced to spend most of his time with her. Unfortunately for the three of them, they had run into a supernatural being, which had completely destroyed Dean and Lindsey's relationship.

_

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_

Quincy, Illinois: 1995

Sam trailed behind Dean and his newest girlfriend. They'd only been in Quincy for two days and Dean had already found somebody who was tripping all over him, though Lindsey did a fairly good job of hiding how much she liked him and Dean was doing a damn good job of _ignoring_ how much she liked him. Normally he took advantage of the girls who threw themselves at him, but Lindsey was different. He'd been polite to her, pulling out her chair at lunch, picking up her books if she dropped them (Lindsey was something of a klutz) and Sam had the growing suspicion that his brother was in love, though at twelve, he only had a rough idea of what love even was.

"Sorry I had to drag my kid brother with me," Dean said, effectively ending the silence that had accompanied the three kids since they'd left the school grounds, "My dad had an important business meeting to attend to and I can't leave Sammy alone." John had left two days ago and had informed the boys that he would be back that night.

"Oh, that's fine, I love kids," Lindsey shot a quick smile over her shoulder at Sam, which he returned politely.

"I could have taken care of myself Dean," Sam grumbled once she'd turned back around.

"You just keep telling yourself that kiddo," Dean smirked over his shoulder. Sam rolled his eyes.

"So…I know we haven't really been…around each other for very long, but I was thinking that maybe we could go out sometime," Lindsey said shyly, turning her attention back to Dean. Sam rolled his eyes as his brother paused for dramatic effect.

"Weeell…" he said, pretending to think about it. Lindsey's face was quickly falling, but Sam knew Dean's hesitation would have the desired effect when he finally said yes.

"I guess you don't have to…" Lindsey started.

"Sure I'll go out with you," Dean interrupted, giving her his classic playboy grin.

"Oh, great!" Lindsey said excitedly. Dean had to grab her arm to keep her from tripping over her own feet. "I know this great place to eat, it's not really a restaurant, but more like one of those old fashioned diners, and there's this movie playing that's kind of a chick flick, but I think you'd like it because there's a few fight scenes in it and the…"

"Whoa, there. Slow down a minute," Dean said, pulling her up short. She had been talking so fast that she was almost inaudible. "Dinner and a movie sound great." She smiled broadly at him.

"I can't wait," she said, looking into his eyes adoringly. Sam wanted to make gagging sounds, but he was too polite for that. Instead he turned away and watched a bird hopping along a telephone wire.

"Dean, dad's gonna be mad if we're not back when he is," he pointed out, without turning back to the couple.

"As much as I hate to admit it, he's right," Dean said to Lindsey.

"Oh, ok, well let's stop by Mrs. Hartman's first so I can water the plants and then maybe you could walk me home?" she asked hopefully.

"Sure," he grinned again, but neither of them started walking again.

"Dean," Sam interjected. Dean shook his head as if trying to clear his head.

"Right, we should get moving," he said, pulling his eyes away from Lindsey.

"Right," she agreed, following his lead. They three of them walked down the street with Dean and Lindsey making gooey boyfriend/ girlfriend talk and Sam shuffling along behind them. They arrived at Ms. Hartman's mansion a few minutes later. Sam looked up at the big house in awe. It was one of those old fashioned houses probably built in the early civil war era. It was two stories high with big white pillars in front and dark green shutters. Lindsey walked up to the steps and pulled the key out from under the welcome mat in front of the door.

"So how long are you watchin' the old lady's house?" Dean asked.

"Just for a few days," Lindsey said, slipping the key into the lock, "And she's not an old lady. She actually really young and she looks like she could be a supermodel or something." She pushed open the door and walked inside, with Dean closely at her heals. Sam paused in the doorway to take in the huge house. Everything was spotless and white. There was a grand staircase just inside the entryway and vases full of flowers were set up on tables all the way down the hall, leading to a huge kitchen.

"She sure has a lot of plants," Dean commented.

"Yeah, but she's giving me thirty bucks a day to water them," Lindsey said, sounding very pleased with herself.

"This woman's loaded," Dean said in awe. Sam tuned out the rest of their conversation and walked slowly up the stairs. He wasn't sure why he was so compelled to see what was up here, but he couldn't stop. The second floor was void of plant life, but what it lacked in greenery, it made up for in doors. Sam could make out at least five along the wall on either side of the stairs. Curious he turned left and walked quietly down the hallway. He felt like an intruder, but he couldn't resist whatever was pulling him towards the door at the end of the hall. He hesitantly reached out and touched the handle. It turned easily in his hand and as it swung open Sam's jaw dropped. The room was covered in ancient symbols written in red, black and white paint. Canisters of salt, bottles of what he assumed were holy water, and silver knives were scattered on tables, bookshelves and windowsills. The two windows both had a layer of salt on them, sealing off the entrance to ghosts and demons. Sam stepped forward into the room, but as he did so, he tripped over a nearly invisible wire and fell flat. Acting purely on hunters instincts he quickly pulled himself forward just in time. Seven incredibly sharp knifes plunged into the floor right where Sam's legs had been only a second before. Panting, he scrambled to a sitting position and scooted farther away from the knives.

"Sammy?" Sam could just make out Dean's voice from downstairs. Sam couldn't answer. His heart was pounding and he was fighting desperately to regain his breath. "Sam!" Dean shouted, this time his voice sounded closer.

"I'm in here," Sam called back, but his voice wobbled considerably. He heard two sets of feet stomp up the stairs and then he saw Dean, looking furious, at the top. Dean glanced to the right first, but when he looked to the left he stormed over to his little brother with Lindsey following close behind.

"What the hell are you doing Sammy? This is someone's house. You're not supposed to be sneaking around other people's houses when they're not home," Dean scolded. Sam didn't have time to appreciate the irony of what his brother was saying because right behind him a black shape had appeared.

"Dean," Sam squeaked.

"Look at this," Dean said, gesturing towards the knives in the floor, "How they hell are we going to fix this? Do you know someone who can repair wood floors?"

"Dean," Sam repeated, but his brother plowed on.

"I don't have the money to fix this and neither does dad so unless you have a magic bank account that you haven't told us about…"

"Dean!" Sam shouted, this time effectively catching his brother's attention. He pointed to the black blob that had now grown to completely obliterate everything past the two kids. Dean looked around and froze.

"What the hell is that?" Dean choked out. Lindsey had turned also and as she looked up at the black blob in front of her she screamed. The thing roared with her and began rushing forward. Eyes widening, Dean grabbed Lindsey's elbow and yanked her towards the room Sam was in.

"Hurry!" Sam shouted, scrambling to his feet. He grabbed Lindsey's hand as she came flying through the door, but as Dean started to follow after her he was heaved backwards towards the blob and the door slammed shut. "Dean!" Sam yanked on the door, but it wouldn't open, "Dean!"

"Bring it on you slimy son of a bitch!" Dean shouted. Sam tried desperately to open the door, but it was like someone had locked it. Outside it sounded like something heaving was being slammed into the walls. Dean was screaming words Sam had never even heard before, but it wasn't until he began screaming in pain that Sam really got panicked. Giving up on the doorknob Sam searched for something heavy he could use to force the door open. Lindsey was sobbing uncontrollably in a corner. She screamed again as a gun shot echoed from the hall and then everything was silent. Terrified that something had happened to his brother Sam ran to the door again. This time it swung open easily. Dean was lying motionless on the floor, bleeding from several places. His clothes were torn and his left arm was twisted in an impossible angle. Kneeling beside him, with a gun in his hand was John. He looked up at his youngest son.

"What the hell were you two doing here?" he demanded, putting the gun back in his jacket pocket.

"We were helping Lindsey water the plants and then I found this room and that thing showed up and I couldn't get the door open," Sam was babbling, he knew he was, but he couldn't stop.

"Who's Lindsey?" John cut him off. Sam turned back to the room where Lindsey was still huddled in a corner. "Damn it. We need to get out of here. Grab her and follow me." Sam did as he was told and grabbed Lindsey's hand.

"No! No! That thing is still out there!" she screamed. Sam pulled with all his strength and finally managed to drag Lindsey from the room.

"We have to go. If we get out of here, then it can't hurt us," Sam promised. He followed John down the stairs and out of the house. The impala was parked outside with the engine still running.

"Get the door," John ordered. Sam released Lindsey's hand and opened the back seat door. As John was laying Dean in the back seat Sam turned back to Lindsey, but she was gone. He spotted her sprinting across the yard still screaming.

"Lindsey!" Sam shouted after her.

"Forget her, get in the car," John directed, shutting the door. Sam scrambled around to the other side of the car and got into the passenger's seat.

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Ok so was there any confusion? Please I want to make sure this all makes sense. I've been told I get ahead of myself when I'm writing. If there's anything I can clear up in the next chapter please let me know. Please review and Thanks!


	4. Quincy

**A/N: At the beginning, this chapter picks up the tail end of the flashback from the last chapter and the italicized part in here is a newspaper article. Otherwise I really don't have any heads up for this chapter so enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural**

Chapter 4: Quincy

_Quincy, Illinois: 1995_

Sam sat quietly by his brother's bed. He didn't really know why he was sitting here, it only made him feel worse the longer he watched, but he knew he would feel even worse if he left. John had gone back to the house to kill whatever that blob thing had been. Sam looked down at his feet, which were swinging gently. The chair was tall enough that his feet were a good inch or so off the ground. He looked up sharply as he heard the sheets rustling. Deans eyes opened slowly and the heart monitor suddenly picked up its pace.

"Dean?" Sam whispered. Hospitals always made him want to whisper. Dean's panic stricken eyes found Sam's and he instantly relaxed.

"What happened?" he asked hoarsely.

"What do you remember?" Sam asked timidly. Dean thought for a moment before answering.

"I remember that blob thing was beating the crap out of me, but…" he hesitated, "Where's Lindsey?"

"Home I guess," Sam shrugged.

"You guess?"

"She kind of ran off," Sam admitted, hunching down under his brother's accusing stare.

"Did you at least try to explain to her what was going on?" Dean asked sternly.

"I didn't get a chance and what did happen by the way?" Sam said defensively, "What was that thing?"

"I don't know Sammy," Dean said, closing his eyes, "It kept telling me I'd regret it."

"Regret what?"

"I don't know."

"Dean?"

"What?"

"Do you think it would have killed you?"

"I don't know Sam."

"What do you think it wanted?"

"I don't know Sam."

"Do you think Dad can kill it?"

"Sam!" Dean's eyes opened and he glared at his little brother.

"Sorry," Sam mumbled, dropping his gaze back down to the floor. There were a million questions burning in his mind and he held out for as long as he could, but the questions burst from his mouth before he could hold them back. "Why'd you think that lady had that room anyway? Do you think she knew about that thing? Do you think she was trying to kill it? Why'd she leave and let someone into her house if she knew it was haunted? What if…"

"Sam if you don't shut your mouth I swear I am going to make you go back into that house and kill that thing yourself," Dean threatened. Sam's mouth snapped shut. Dean closed his eyes again and relaxed into the thin hospital pillow. "Do you think Lindsey will ever talk to me again?" he asked absently.

"Hey, how come you get to ask questions and I can't?" Sam protested.

"Because I'm the oldest," he grinned.

"You're such a jerk," Sam grumbled, folding his arms across his chest.

"I'm sorry Sammy," Dean opened his eyes and looked over at him, "I just got my ass handed to me on a gooey platter. I just can't handle the questions right now." As much as he tried to stay mad, Sam gave into the puppy dog look Dean was giving him.

"Ok," he said reluctantly, unfolding his arms.

"That's my Sammy," Dean sighed.

Dean was only in the hospital overnight. They stayed in Quincy for another week so that John could get rid of the blob, but it never showed up again. Neither boy had returned to school. Dean had paced restlessly throughout the motel during their confinement, lunging towards the door every time the maid service had come by to give them fresh towels, hoping it was Lindsey demanding to know the truth behind what had happened. As the week drew to a close, John gave up on the blob and the three of them left. Neither Sam nor Dean had ever mentioned Lindsey again.

_Quincy, Illinois: 2005_

Sam had been researching for over two hours. There hadn't been any previous occurrences of the strange overnight healings in the past five years. No one had even gone missing within that time period. Growing impatient Sam tried a broader range to see if anything came up. One article appeared from September of 1995. Sam began quickly scanning through the article, but slowed down when he saw his own name mentioned in the article.

_**Teen Attacked While Watering Plants**_

_In mid afternoon, a young girl was watering the plants in Ms. Donna Hartman's home. Ms. Hartman, 26, had taken a week long vacation to visit a friend in Florida and had asked Lindsey Brecken, 16, to water her plants. On September 15, Brecken entered the house and came out screaming. She claimed to have seen some sort of creature while "checking out" the upper floor of Hartman's house. When asked to describe the monster Brecken replied "it was like a tar monster or something." Brecken also claims that two boys were with her. She named the two boys as Sam and Dean Winchester, who had mysteriously disappeared the day after the attack._

Sam frowned. They had remained in Quincy for a week after they had been attacked. Maybe that was why Lindsey hadn't come to confront Dean all those years ago. She'd though they'd left. Shrugging off the idea Sam continued reading.

_Some locals who believed Brecken's story are saying that the Winchester boys must have been taken by the monster. "It only makes sense," Melissa Robinson, 24 tells reporter John Mallon, "I mean if that thing didn't take them, then where did they go?" Joan Chron, Brecken and Dean Winchester's teacher reported that Dean had not returned to class after the incident. "Trust me, if Dean Winchester was here, I would have known," Chron said. After some digging, however, it appears the Dean was checked into the hospital the day of the attack with a broken arm and several deep gouges. Dr. Peter Briscal, who was Dean's attending doctor told reporters, "It looked like someone had taken a knife and gone crazy on the kid. My first bet was on the father, but then I saw his face and I knew it couldn't have been him…I'd never seen that much pain and worry on a man's face before." Briscal said that Dean had been released the day after the attack as he was stable and they had already set his arm. After that the Winchester's seemed to leave town "And who could blame them?" Officer Jerry Stil, commented, "If some lunitic had attacked my kids I'd have hightailed it out of here first chance I got." So far everything remains quiet in Quincy and no farther attacks have taken place. Police are hoping it was an accident, a startled kid who attacked when he got caught stealing from Hartman, but as to the tar monster, no other witnesses have seen it and Brecken has moved on with her life, though it's not likely she'll be watering anyone's plants in the near future._

Sam finished the article and let out a heavy sigh. It sounded like that blob that had attacked them ten years ago might have come back, but Dean hadn't healed over night like the other victims had. Just then the door to the motel opened and Dean came in holding two carryout bags.

"Find anything?" he asked, setting the bags down.

"Not really. It looks like the last person that was attacked was you," Sam said, checking one last time for anything he might have missed.

"That was ten years ago," Dean frowned, "Are you telling me this thing waited ten years to show up again?"

"I don't know that it's even the same thing. You didn't heal like the other victims and we didn't see the ghost of anyone we knew," Sam pointed out. Dean responded by taking his cheeseburger out of the bag and taking a huge bite. "So what did you find out from the victims."

"Just what the articles said," he responded around a mouthful of food, "None of them remembered anything. They didn't even remember getting home."

"So basically we have a bit steaming pile of nothing," Sam said flatly. He reread the article again.

"Didn't that last victim have some friends with her?" Dean asked suddenly.

"Yeah, i think so," Sam nodded.

"Well lets go talk to the friends," Dean said, pulling his keys out of his pocket, "Maybe they noticed something weird."

"It's not going to be that easy," Sam said, shaking his head, "The third victim was from out of town. Apparently they high tailed it back home after the attack."

"So where's back home?"

"Atlanta, Georgia. The only way to get there within a decent amount of time would be to f…" Sam didn't even get a chance to finish the word.

"There is no way in hell am I ever going anywhere on a plane," Dean said firmly.

"I guess we could check out the old house. Just to make sure it's not coming from there," Sam shrugged. When Dean didn't respond Sam looked up from his computer. "Dean?"

"Yeah, let's check out the haunted mansion," he grinned and started to walk out the door.

"Dean?"

"What?"

"Are you still thinking about Lindsey?" Sam asked, hesitantly

"Dude, I told you that was a long time ago," Dean said, shortly, "I hardly even remember her alright? Let's just get this over with." Sam shut his laptop and followed Dean out the door.

The house was just as Sam remembered it. The walls were still as white as that day ten years ago, though the article had implied that Donna Hartman hadn't lived in the house since. The plants were still littered all over the first floor and seemed to be in excellent condition considering the place had been abandoned.

"It looks awfully well kept for being deserted," Dean commented, seeming to read Sam's mind.

"That article was from ten years ago though. Maybe she moved back in," Sam shrugged. They were just about to head to the kitchen when there was a thump upstairs.

"Ms. Hartman?" Dean called, pulling out his gun. Sam did the same and they both started slowly up the stairs, "Ms. Hartman, FBI. We just want to ask you a few questions." Sam stiffened as he felt the barrel of a shotgun press against his back.

"Who are you and what do you want," a female voice demanded.

"Just relax alright," Dean said, once he saw Sam's situation, "I'm agent Seeger, and this is agent Chaplin. We're looking into the recent attacks and we were wondering if we could ask you a few questions."

"FBI huh?" Donna Hartman asked, eyeing them suspiciously, "Do you boys have a problem with knocking?" Sam turned around slowly so he was facing the woman as Dean answered her question.

"The door was open a crack and we wanted to make sure no one had broken in so if you don't mind I'm sure my partner would appreciate it if you'd lower your weapon Mrs. Hartman," Dean explained.

"Are you two hunters?" Donna asked suddenly. The brother's glanced at each other momentarily.

"Yeah, actually," Sam confirmed.

"Huh," Donna lowered the gun so it was pointing at the floor, "Name's Donna by the way. Mrs. Hartman was my mother."

"So you're not married then," Dean commented, though by his tone he didn't seem surprised.

"How'd you know we were hunters?" Sam asked, trying to cover up his brother's rudeness.

"I don't know of many FBI agents that would break into a house without a warrant," Donna said, starting off towards the kitchen, "Good thing you boys arrived. I'm having a hell of a time figuring out what's causing these attacks."

"You're a hunter too?" Sam commented.

"Damn right I am," Donna said sharply.

"That would explain the room," Dean commented. Donna stopped and turned back.

"Exactly how long have you boys been in my house?" she demanded.

"No we just walked in," Sam explained, "We're Sam and Dean Winchester. We were with…"

"Lindsey when she was attacked," Donna nodded her understanding, "You two disappeared right after."

"Not really. We hung around for a week waiting for that thing to come back," Dean said, accusation clear in his voice, "What the hell is that by the way?" Donna smiled.

"My own personal alarm system. Did you like it? Read in the paper it broke your arm," she grinned, nodding towards Dean.

"Alarm system?" Sam asked, confused.

"Yes sir. I had a witch put it in place so no kids would go snooping around my séance room," Donna said smugly, "Looks like it worked too."

"So in other words, the victims aren't being attacked by a tar monster," Sam concluded, before Dean could come up with another rude response.

"Lord no. That thing doesn't even move unless someone opens that door," Donna explained.

"So what are your theories?" Sam asked.

"Could be a number of things, demon, shapeshifter, witch I suppose it could even be a trickster," Donna shrugged.

"How did you come up with shapeshifter?" Dean asked.

"Well a shapeshifter could mutilate itself to look like the victim of an attack and then the next morning shed its skin and put the real person in their place. Of course then the victim wouldn't remember being attacked and they wouldn't have a cut to prove it," Donna explained. Dean rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed that she had managed to prove her point.

"Alright so I guess the next step would be to catch the son of a bitch," Sam commented. Despite Dean's obvious reluctance to include Donna in on their plan, the three of them set a course of action to find whatever it was that was haunting Quincy.

**Alright so as usual, please review and…Thanks to those who already reviewed and/or put my story on favorite or alert lists. **


	5. Grudges

**A/N: I'm brining up Sam's dreams again. I'll also explain more about why he's having the dream from Last Wish. The italicized part is Sam's dream and the bold is Sam's memory. I'm sorry if it's a little rough. I'm trying to explain it without putting in an overload of details so enjoy and Thanks! Please Review and a big thanks to everyone who's review and/or put my story on favorite/alert lists!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any of its characters**

Chapter 5: Grudges

_Claire raised the gun to her lips to blow the smoke away. Sam collapsed next to his fallen brother, tears streaming down his face. The mist had picked up to a steady rain and was soaking them all thoroughly._

"_I don't understand?" he said._

"_Oh Sammy. Sweet innocent Sammy. I thought for sure you'd recognize me when we met up at school," Claire said, stepping towards him, "After all, I love kids." The scene abruptly changed. Claire was gone and Dean was standing alone in front of a motel that Sam vaguely remembered from a few years ago. The night was clear and the stars and moon were the only light available. Unsure of what his brother was doing Sam was about to move forward when a figure detached itself from the shadows and a loud shot rang out. _

"_No!" Sam tried to scream, but nothing came out. Dean crumpled to the ground and lay there motionless. John suddenly appeared and ran towards his fallen son. _

"_Dean! Oh God Dean!" John knelt down and pulled out his cell phone, "Sam. Please you have to come back." Although he was a good distance away Sam could distinctly hear his own voice responding to John over the phone._

"_I'm not coming back dad. Nothing you say will ever make me come back," the Sam on the phone said angrily._

"_It's your brother," John sobbed, "He's been shot. Please Sam you have to come."_

"_No dad. I'm done with that life." Sam heard a click on the other line and John let the phone drop out of his hand. _

"_What did I do wrong?" John cried, "Why does he hate me so much?" Sam tried to run towards his father and Dean, but his legs weren't moving. Dean's head suddenly turned towards him. His eyes stared blankly and he still looked dead, but he began speaking._

"_Why didn't you come back Sammy? Why don't you care about us?" Between Dean's accusing words and John's wracking sobs, Sam couldn't take it any more. He screamed as loud as he could._

* * *

"Sam! Damn it Sam wake up!" Sam jerked awake as Dean shook his shoulder roughly. "Are you alright?" Dean asked. Panting and covered in a thin sheen of sweat Sam could only manage a simple nod. "That must have been one hell of a nightmare. I think you woke up the whole neighborhood," Dean commented, but he still looked concerned.

"How long was I screaming?" Sam asked, as he slowly regained his breath.

"Not too long," Dean answered, "So what was that about? It's not still Jessica is it?"

"No, I…" Sam paused as his eyes rested on Dean's right side, right below the ribs.

"Sam?" Dean prompted. Sam shook his head and rubbed his temples. "Oh come on Sam. I thought you were over that," Dean said shortly as he realized what Sam had been staring at.

"I was on the phone when you were shot," Sam said quietly, "I heard the damn gunshot." He looked back up at Dean with guilt in his eyes, "I should have come back."

"Sam, you called back and Dad was a jackass. I wouldn't have come back if I were you," Dean said.

"Yes you would have. You would have come back despite what Dad said," Sam said miserably, lowering his gaze to the floor.

"Sam look at me," Dean ordered. Sam reluctantly brought his eyes back up to Dean's. "I'm still alive. I wasn't killed and you are beating yourself up for no reason. You wouldn't have been able to do anything even if you had been there."

"I know I just…" Sam looked down again, "I should have come back." Dean contemplated agreeing with him, but decided against it.

"No Sam, you…you needed to get away. I think if you and Dad would have spent even another hour with each other you would've killed each other," Dean grinned, trying to lighten the mood. Sam snorted, but hid his guilt for another time.

"Hey, Dean, did you and Dad ever find the guy that shot you?" he asked suddenly.

"No. The son of bitch disappeared before I got out of the hospital," Dean said bitterly.

"Do you know any girl that might hold a grudge against you? Someone who said she likes kids?" Sam asked hesitantly. Since his dream about Jessica dying, he'd taken his dreams more seriously.

"None come to mind," Dean said seriously. Sam nodded, appreciating the honest answer. He had expected a smart ass remark. "Well, look, I'm starving so I'm going to go get some breakfast before we have to meet up with the Bitch lady. Do you want to come?" he asked, grabbing his keys off the night table.

"No thanks. I'll get our stuff ready to go."

"Do you want anything?" Dean was already halfway out the door as he asked.

"I'm fine." The door shut before he'd hardly gotten he words out. Sighing Sam began gathering their weapons together, but as he did so the memory from the night he left for college replayed over and over in his head.

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"If you walk out that door don't even think about coming back," John yelled.

"**I wouldn't come back even if you asked me to," Sam shouted back. He knew this sounded childish, but he was so sick of arguing. He stormed from the room and out into the dark. Dean was leaning heavily against a light pole just outside their room. He wasn't drunk, but he wished he were. Sam brushed past him without a word. **

"**Sammy…" Dean started.**

"**Dean don't," Sam snapped, glaring at his brother. Carrying only a backpack, Sam crossed the parking lot and turned left. He would hitchhike his way to Stanford if that's what it took. He had been walking a good hour or so before his phone vibrated. He dug his phone out of his pocket and looked at the number before answering. "What?" he asked sharply. **

"**Sam, what are you doing?" Dean asked, sounding both disappointed and understanding at the same time.**

"**Dean I am so fed up with his crap. I can't take it any more," Sam said angrily, "He's being an ass and you know it."**

"**Yeah I know, but that doesn't mean you need to storm off like this," Dean said.**

"**Are you taking his side?" Sam accused. He was starting to regret taking the call.**

"**I'm not on anyone's side. I'm just saying we need to stick together," Dean clarified, "Please Sam. Just tell me where you are and I'll…" Sam heard two gunshots in the background and Dean grunted after the last one.**

"**Dean?" he stopped walking and listened carefully, "Dean, are you ok?" There was a heavy thud and then the connection was broken. Numbed by fear, Sam quickly dialed Dean's number again, but after getting his voicemail twice, he called John.**

"**What?" John answered shortly.**

"**I heard gunshots, is Dean ok?" Sam asked already turning around to go back.**

"**He's fine," John snapped. Then the line went dead. Startled, Sam could only stand frozen on the side of the road. He looked down at his phone to make sure he was in a good area before trying to call again. "You left Sam. What happens to us is none of your business any more," John answered angrily and then he hung up again. Sam stared dumfounded at his phone. How could his father brush him off like that? Red hot anger suddenly surged within him. Sam decided then and there that he would take John's last order in earnest. He was leaving and there was no way in hell he would ever go back.**

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"So tell me again why you think this person's going to be the next victim?" Dean asked skeptically. So far, he'd done his best to question everything Donna suggested they do even if he knew the answer.

"You're sure not much of a hunter are you?" Donna asked irritably. She'd answered all of his questions to this point, but Sam could tell she was getting fed up.

"I just don't trust hunters who trust witches," Dean shot back, making no effort to hide his disgust.

"Now you listen to me, I've been living in this city for damn near thirty-five years now. I don't need a smartass hunter thinking he knows everything," Donna snapped.

"Let's just get ready ok?" Sam pleaded, looking between them. Dean reluctantly dropped his accusatory stare so that he could finish unloading the weapons they had brought.

"Now, were you really interested in knowing why Niki Lee is the next victim or were you just being a jackass," Donna asked sharply.

"I'm kind of curious about that," Sam interjected as Dean opened his mouth, "I tried to find some link between the victims, but it seemed random."

"Stephanie Walker, Erin Ivan and Paula Newman were the first three victims," Donna started, "At first I couldn't find a similarity aside from their ages, but it's come to my attention that they are all fairly new to the town or just passing by."

"So? I'm sure there are plenty of out of towners that come through here. Why these four?" Dean asked, for once sounding a little less hostile.

"Are you honestly trying to tell me that three sixteen year old girls, who are all from out of town and are all getting attacked the same way is a coincidence?" Donna asked.

"Ok, so we follow Niki whoever until she's attacked and then what?" Dean responded.

"Well between the arsenal in the trunk of your car and the weapons I have here, we should be ready for just about anything," Donna shrugged, "We just need to carry a little of everything with us."

"Great. Well that should be a light load," Dean said sarcastically.

"If you don't like it you can take care of it yourself. God help you when you come face to face with whatever it is," Donna said stiffly.

"If we divide what we need between the three of us we should be fine," Sam said, as Dean and Donna glared at each other.

"I still say this is ridiculous. We need to find out exactly what we're looking at before we go charging in half cocked," Dean muttered. Donna somehow managed to ignore the comment and for that Sam was thankful. Now he understood what he and his father looked like to other people.

* * *

The three hunters followed Nicki Lee inconspicuously all night long. She remained unharmed, but just to be safe the continued following her until late in the morning. By that point Dean was complaining relentlessly about being hungry so Sam went to get breakfast. He was waiting for his order when a conversation between a man and a woman sitting at a nearby table caught his attention.

"Didn't you hear? There were three more attacks last night," the man said.

"You're kidding," the woman said, sounding more like she'd just heard the latest gossip rather than the serious statement the man had made.

"Yup, same as the other three and they were all new here too," the man confirmed.

"Who were they? My daughter has a friend that just moved here a few weeks ago. I sure hope it wasn't her."

"It was Erin Harold, Tom Chapman and Matt Edwards," the man said, "Each one of them stumbled in sometime during the night looking like they'd just tussled with the devil and then the next morning they didn't have a cut to prove it."

"Sir." Sam turned away from their conversation as the man at the counter handed him his food.

"Thanks," Sam nodded and then left the diner. Even from a distance he could see that Donna and Dean were arguing heatedly in the car. He opened the door and slid into the back seat.

"Yeah well I'll take a bacon cheeseburger over anything chicken any day," Dean said sharply.

"Well then you can enjoy a short life because all that grease will screw up your insides," Donna replied shortly.

"You two are arguing about food?" Sam asked incredulously.

"She's trying to tell me…" Dean started, but Sam cut him off.

"I don't care Dean. We're on a job in case you forgotten, so I suggest you drop it for another time," Sam said shortly.

"Geeze Sammy. Who shoved what up your ass?" Dean asked, glancing back at his little brother.

"We've been following the wrong person," Sam said, tossing the food bags to the front seat without grabbing his own meal.

"Really," Dean said, shooting a know it all smirk at Donna.

"Dean knock it off," Sam said exasperated. They had been going at each other all night and Sam wasn't sure how much more he could take, "I didn't get it before, but now I know why you always used to stand outside when dad and I were yelling at each other. You two are the most annoying people I've met in my life and you don't even know each other that well."

"Ok, ok. Why do we have the wrong person?" Dean asked, both surprised and proud of his brother's outburst.

"There were three attacks last night. Erin Harold, Tom Chapman and Matt Edwards and they were all attacked just like the first three were," Sam explained.

"But…none of those fit the pattern. Well besides the fact that they're some of the newer people to the city," Donna said, sounding confused.

"How many of them live here?" Dean asked, for once sounding honestly interested.

"All three of them, but I don't see what good it'll do. I've already talked to the other victims, but none of them remember anything," Donna pointed out.

"Maybe we can get a little background from them. Where they were, who they were with. Maybe something will come up," Dean started the car and pulled away from Nicky Lee's house.

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Ok so how was it? Anything confusing please let me know and thank you all so much for reviewing and putting my story on favorite or alert lists.


	6. Clues

**A/N: Just one thing, the italacized part is Sam's handwriting, but otherwise no special heads up for this chapter, so enjoy! Thanks for the reviews/adding my story to alert/favorite lists!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural etc.**

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Chapter 6: Clues

Talking to the victims got them nowhere. The three of them returned to the motel that afternoon with nothing to show for their efforts. Sam sat down at the table and wrote down the names of the people that had already been attacked.

_Stephanie Walker, 16 female, 10:56 pm, near home_

_Erin Ivan, 16 female, 9:45 pm, high school_

_Pam Newman, 16 female, 11:45 pm, movie theater_

_Tom Chapman, 16 male, 7:30 pm, downtown_

_Erin Harold, 14 female, 8:15 pm, backyard_

_Matt Edwards, 20 male, 12:30 am, gas station_

He sat back and looked down at the names, trying to figure out where the connection was. None of the victims had been in the same place nor had they been attacked at the same time. Frustrated Sam pushed the paper away.

"So what do we have?" Dean asked absently.

"A bunch of witnesses that don't have any connection to one another," Sam grumbled.

"They're all newer to the area," Donna pointed out, "But age wise, gender, time of attack and location are all different. If we could just figure out who would be next."

"Who are the newer people in town? Maybe we could split up and follow a few of them," Dean suggested. Both him and Donna had tried to make an effort to get along.

"That's it actually," Donna admitted, "There aren't any more new people, so unless this thing is going to double back, there isn't anyone else." Sam glanced back down at the list and frowned. He pulled the paper back towards him and wrote down just the first letters of their names.

_S E P T E M_

"Hey, look at this," he turned the paper so the other two could read it, "What does that look like to you?"

"Septem?" Dean asked.

"September," Sam corrected, "I think its spelling out September with the victims first names."

"But why?" Donna asked.

"I don't know, but do you know of anyone whose name starts with b, e, or r?" Sam asked.

"I know a lot of people whose names start with those letters," Donna said flatly, "There's no way we can watch all of them."

"Well, what about just people who start with b? We can each take one person and see who gets attacked tonight. Then maybe we can catch this thing in the act," Sam suggested.

"That just might work. This thing seems to like people under twenty so I guess that would be Ben Stephens, Bailey Sanders and Brian Hepland," Donna said thoughtfully.

"Alright, so let's follow these three tonight and hopefully end this before anyone else gets hurt," Dean rubbed his hands together.

* * *

Sam sat at the bar and watched 21 year old Bailey Sanders out of the corner of his eye as she flirted with some of the men playing pool. Dean had been following Ben Stephens and Donna was apparently good friends with Brian Hepland. Bailey had left home around seven and had been at the bar since then. Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone as it vibrated.

"Find anything?" he asked.

"Yeah, the people in this neighborhood don't ever go outside," Dean replied irritably. Apparently 16 year old Brandon had decided to stay in tonight, so Dean had been parked outside his house for over six hours.

"Hang in there. We'll find this thing," Sam said encouragingly.

"Says the guy sitting at a bar," he grumbled.

"Take that up with Donna," Sam grinned. Donna had refused to let Dean watch Bailey so Sam had gone instead.

"Don't worry, she'd next on my list as soon as we find this son of a bitch," Dean said flatly. Sam turned as someone tapped him on the shoulder and saw Bailey standing there.

"Uh, Dean I have to go."

"Why did you see something?" Dean's voice was instantly on edge.

"No, I'm fine, I just have to go." He hung up before Dean could respond.

"So tell me something," Bailey started, sitting down on the barstool next to him, "Why would a good lookin' guy like you be afraid to ask a girl out?"

"Excuse me?" Sam asked, completely confused by her question.

"I know you've been following me," she said matter of factly.

"Oh," Sam felt a small blush creep into his cheeks. Dean would rip him a new one if he found out.

"I saw you sitting outside my house so actually that could make you a couple of things," she held up her hand and counted up, "One, you're a creepy stalker, two you're some bad ass psycho killer or three you've been watching me from afar for a long time and just can't quite build up the courage to ask me out for real." _Conceded much?_ Sam thought. He wanted to say _"Or option four, I'm trying to save your ass from something a lot worse than a bad ass psycho killer."_ But he didn't.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to give you the wrong impression," he said, giving her an embarrassed grin.

"I haven't seen you around here before. What's your name?" she asked.

"Sam," he held out his hand.

"Bailey," she took his hand and smiled, "So, Sam can I buy you a drink?"

"Oh, no thank you. I've got to get up early tomorrow," Sam shook his head.

"I insist, Joe, send one down here," Bailey said, motioning to the bartender.

"No really I can't," Sam tried to wave off the beer that was put down in front of him.

"Trying to get another boy drunk Bailey," Joe commented, ignoring Sam's protests.

"I'm not trying to get him drunk," Bailey rolled her eyes.

"I'm fine really," Sam insisted.

"Are you telling me you're not going to drink a beer a lady bought you?" Joe asked. Sam sighed and looked at the bottle. One drink wouldn't hurt right?

* * *

"They don't even know each other that well and they're fighting all the time," Sam said, waving his arms for emphasis.

"I know what you're going through," Bailey nodded, "My parents fight all the time and most of the time it's for stupid reasons."

"I don't know where my brother gets off being so high and mighty. Its not like the woman actually did anything to him," Sam shook his head and tried to put his beer bottle down, but the counter kept moving.

"Well it sounds like Dean's quite full of himself," Bailey commented, guiding Sam's hand to the counter.

"You have no idea, but I know where he gets it from. My dad," he shook his head again, but this time his hair flopping in his face seemed ridiculously funny.

"Buddy I think you've had enough," Joe said, pulling the bottle out of his hand.

"What're you talkin' about?" Sam said indignantly, "I've only had two."

"Actually Sam, that would be seven," Bailey corrected. Sam looked over at her and frowned. Seven? He only remembered two, but hell he was in such a great mood right now who the hell cared? He jumped as his pocket started vibrating. He dug his phone out of his pocket.

"Hello?"

"Sam?"

"Speak of the devil," Sam said, leaning towards Bailey.

"Hi Dean," Bailey giggled.

"Bailey said hi," Sam said into the phone.

"Yeah I heard, Sam…are you ok?" Dean asked.

"I'm fine Dean, you don't have to check in on me every two seconds," Sam looked over at Bailey and rolled his eyes.

"Are you drunk?" Dean asked. Sam could hear the condescending tone in his brother's voice and bristled at the accusation.

"I only had two," he said forcefully.

"Seven," Bailey corrected.

"Alright that's it. I'm coming over to get you, don't you dare move, understand me?" Dean ordered.

"Fine dad, whatever you say," Sam snapped the phone shut.

"Well Sam, I have to go," Bailey said, touching his arm.

"Right now?" he glanced down at his watch, but he couldn't make out the time.

"Yup, but hey, it was fun," she stood and patted his shoulder.

" 'K, drive safe," he waved her off as she left. He looked down at his phone, which was still in his hands. He didn't know how long he sat there, but when a hand landed on his shoulder, he jumped out of his seat and whirled around, swinging blindly with his fists.

"Whoa!" Dean just barely managed to duck on of the wild punches, "Sam, its me!" Sam paused and blinked a few times as Dean's face came into focus.

"Oh hey Dean," Sam grinned broadly, "Bailey was really cool." Dean leaned in a little closer. He could smell the alcohol on Sam's breath, but the smell didn't seem strong enough considering how hammered his brother looked.

"Are you drugged?"

"I don't do drugs Dean," Sam said rolling his eyes.

"How many did he have?" Dean asked, glancing around at the bartender.

"Just two," Joe shrugged, "Guy obviously can't hold his liquor." Dean turned back to his brother. It took a lot more than two beers to get Sam drunk. Who exactly was this Bailey chick anyway? He was going to have a serious talk to Donna about this later.

"Come on Sammy, lets get back to the room," Dean said, pulling Sam to the door.

"But what about September?" Sam protested, "You can't spell September without B."

"Yeah, well it's four in the morning. I think if something was going to happen it would have happened by now," Dean said, waiting patiently as Sam tried to maneuver through the door. Sam finally got outside and Dean led him stumbling towards the car.

* * *

"Nice girl? You call that a nice girl?" Dean yelled, "He was high!"

"Dean, I'm fine," Sam insisted.

"You should have seen yourself this morning," Dean snapped, "How are you feeling by the way."

"I'm fine," Sam shrugged, "No headache, nothing." Dean shook his head and then rounded on Donna again.

"Why the hell didn't you warn us about her?" he asked angrily.

"I've known Bailey for a long time and I guarantee you that was not normal behavior for her," Donna said flatly. She'd remained calm throughout Dean's accusations and threats.

"Dean…" Sam started, but Dean cut him off.

"No Sam. You were completely out of it this morning and now you're perfectly fine. Tell me how that's normal?"

"Look, I'm fine ok? I think we need to focus on the job now," Sam pleaded, "There were four more attacks last night and one of them was the guy you were watching."

"I swear the kid never left the house," Dean said defensively.

"Not while you were there," Sam pointed out, "His parents said he stumbled in at six this morning. They called the police, but by nine the kid was fine." Dean took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Sam was right, they had a job to do.

**

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Ok, I know the drunk/high part wasn't any good, but I tried. Anyway, please read and review. Thanks!


	7. Girlfriends

**A/N: I decided last minute to go ahead and add two chapters at once so here's the second chapter.**

**A/N: Ok, so this chapter short because I want all your opinions on this. I've got a poll set up on my page and I'll explain more at the end, but anyway please read and review. And repeat from last chapter italicized is Sam's writing. Thanks to those who reviewed and put my story on favorite/alert lists! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural**

* * *

Chapter 7: Girlfriend

"So what, there's more to the message?" Dean asked. With the last four victims in place on the list the first names now spelled September L. The brothers were alone in the motel since Donna had gone home to do her own research, but Dean's mood hadn't improved with her absence. Sam stared down at the list of victims hoping something would jump out at him.

_Stephanie Walker, 16 female_

_Erin Ivan, 16 female_

_Pam Newman, 16 female_

_Tom Chapman, 16 male_

_Erin Harold, 14 female_

_Matt Edwards, 20 male_

_Ben Stephens, 16 male_

_Eli Thomas, 32 male_

_Ricky Evans, 16, male_

_Lindsey Richman, 19 female_

"Try linking that last letter to their last names," Dean suggested, though by his tone it didn't sound like he believed it would lead to anything. Sam followed the suggestion, but stopped halfway down.

"Ignore the L," he turned the paper towards Dean, "What do you see?" Dean leaned over the table and read the words.

_L W I N C H_

"Winch?" he asked.

"The last five letters are e, s, t, e, r," Sam pointed out. Dean looked back down at the letters, but it only took him a second to figure it out.

"Winchester," he said, straitening up.

"September, Winchester," Sam said thoughtfully, "Wasn't it September when we were here last?"

"Yeah, but what does…" Dean stopped midsentence. Realization was written all over his face, but he didn't continue.

"What?" Sam asked, trying to figure out what else he was reading on Dean's face. Was that guilt?

"Nothing," Dean turned away and walked quietly across the room. Sam knew his brother well enough to know when not to ask questions, but he couldn't help but think Dean might have just solved a critical part of the case. Sam glanced back down at the last name on the list. He considered that the L didn't actually mean anything at all and the attacker was simply trying to find someone with the last name that started with an R. The other possibility would be that it was referring to the Lindsey they knew. Was it possible that whatever was attacking Quincy simply wanted revenge on Dean for leaving? Sam glanced back up at Dean, who had seated himself on the edge of the bed and was now staring blankly into space. "I'm…I'm going to step outside," Dean said slowly, but he didn't get up.

"Are you ok?" Sam asked, concerned. Dean didn't respond and instead continued to stare straight ahead. "Dean?" Sam tried again, but his brother remained unresponsive. Feeling his stomach twist into knots Sam stood up from the table and started to cross the room, but Dean suddenly got to his feet and strode past him. "Dean," Sam called after him, but the door slammed shut. Sam quickly followed Dean outside where a fine mist had begun falling. "What's the matter with you?" Sam demanded as he approached his brother.

"Sam I really don't want to talk right now ok?" Dean turned to face him and Sam felt even more apprehensive. He'd never seen so much pain and regret written on the older hunter's face before.

"Dean just…just tell me what's going on," Sam pleaded. Dean was about to answer, but he was interrupted by a familiar female voice.

"Dean Winchester. You just don't want to die do you?" Sam felt his insides freeze up as the memory of his dreams slowly began resurfacing. The mist falling, the way the light fell across Dean's face, the figure that was now separating from the shadows were all figments from his dream. This time when he turned, he wasn't surprised to see Claire holding a gun pointed at Dean.

"I'm sorry," Dean said softly, "I assumed that when you didn't show up you didn't want to have anything to do with me."

"I cried over you for months," Claire said heatedly, "I thought maybe you thought I was just a frightened little girl and I wasn't worth your time any more. You left without saying a word to me. I was broken inside and there was no one I could turn to." The gun was shaking slightly in her hands, but her voice was steady.

"Lindsey?" Sam asked. It suddenly hit him why Claire had always seemed so familiar to him. Even when he'd first met her at school she'd looked vaguely like someone he'd known once before. It had never occurred to him to look back to what little time they'd spent in Quincy so long ago, but now that he knew it was painfully obvious.

"Sweet innocent little Sammy," Lindsey smiled, "I thought for sure you'd recognize me when we met up at school, but I guess we've both grown up a bit haven't we?"

**

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**

Sorry, that's actually a really bad spot to stop, but I need to know one crucial thing before I can continue. I want your opinion. What is Lindsey? I have a poll set up on my page and I've listed a few things she could possibly be. Supernatural vs. human. Please vote and let me know! Thanks!


	8. Shot

**Ok, so I'm starting up where the last chapter dropped off. Final Chapter!**

"Sweet innocent little Sammy," Lindsey smiled, "I thought for sure you'd recognize me when we met up at school, but I guess we've both grown up a bit haven't we. Sam remained motionless as he tried to remember what exactly had happened in his dream. No one was going to die tonight if he had anything to do with it.

"Lindsey…" Dean started forward, but her attention was back on him.

"Take one more step Winchester," she threatened. Dean stopped.

"Please, just think this through," Dean said calmly, "I know you hate me and you have the right considering what I put you through, but is it worth killing me over?"

"You killed me when you left me Dean. I'm just returning the favor."

"Wait," Sam took a step forward as he saw her finger tighten on the trigger.

"Sam stay out of this," Dean ordered.

"No, you both need to know the truth," Sam said, quickly coming up with a plan. The trick would be to get his brother in on it, "Lindsey, don't be mad at him alright? I told him you didn't want to talk to him any more."

"What?" Dean and Lindsey chorused. Lindsey looked furious while Dean looked utterly confused.

"I didn't want you to be a _distraction_," Sam explained, glancing quickly at Dean to see if he understood.

"You let me go all these years thinking she didn't want to talk to me?" Dean asked, angrily taking a subtle step closer to Lindsey.

"You did this?" Lindsey asked quietly. Her hand was shaking even more now and she looked beyond furious.

"I didn't want you two to get closer," Sam said, trying to sound as miserable as possible. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean move forward again. "I was feeling left out and I guess I just wanted Dean to be as lonely as I was. I didn't even think what it would do to you." Lindsey's gaze jerked to the left as Dean took another step, but Sam quickly began speaking again. "I was stupid and I feel horrible for it," he continued, causing Lindsey to look back at him. He started moving out towards the parking lot.

"Don't move!" she said sharply, swinging the gun on him now and which turned her away from Dean.

"You went through so much trouble to get us here," Sam commented, "I was wondering how you did it." His question had the desired effect. Lindsey seemed to relax slightly and she grinned.

"It was actually all coincidence," she said, ignorant of Dean slowly coming up beside her, "When I came back home there had been an attack. I'd been researching monsters and such after our incident at Hartman's mansion so when I heard something had attacked poor Stephanie Walker I decided to find out what it was. As it turns out a young woman named Elizabeth was murdered out here some time ago and was seeking revenge for her murder. So I went down and talked to her and told her of two boys who might be able to help her." Sam had to resist the urge to watch Dean as he was closing in on Lindsey, still unnoticed.

"But how did you convince her to attack those people?" Sam asked, trying to keep the story going.

"When I gave her your names I suggested she try and get a message out to you by spelling out your last name with the victim's last names. I listed the people who would best draw your attention and here you both are," she explained, "It's too bad you won't be able to help her though." She turned suddenly and fired once. Dean jerked sideways from the force of the bullet going through his shoulder before falling to the ground.

"Dean!" Sam started forward, but again, the gun was pointed at him.

"Do you two seriously believe I would come out in the open if I didn't know what I was doing?" she asked, grinning, "Granted I'm not as good a hunter as you two, but I made sure I wouldn't fail." She glared down at Dean, who was struggling to his feet.

"Lindsey please, let's just talk this out," Sam pleaded, taking a quick step forward.

"I swear if you take one more step the next bullet's going into your brother's head," she threatened, aiming the weapon accordingly.

"This isn't about Sam," Dean said angrily, "Just leave him out of this."

"Fine." Sam reacted automatically and lunged as Lindsey was about to squeeze the trigger again. At the last second she spun around and fired, sending the bullet straight at Sam's chest. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. Dean knocking the gun out of Lindsey's hand, Lindsey trying to run, but Dean grabbing her before she could and all the while he was screaming his little brother's name. Sam felt the wet pavement underneath him and then blackness.

"Oh thank God," Dean let out his breath as Sam opened his eyes. Sam glanced around the hospital room without really seeing it. At first he was confused as to why he was here, but then he remembered the gunshot and the pain and…

"What happened?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That bitch shot you. The doctor's said the bullet just barely missed your heart," Dean said, scooting his chair closer to the bed.

"Where's Lindsey?"

"With any luck, rotting in the state prison," Dean said bitterly.

"You didn't let her go?" Sam asked, somewhat surprised.

"I couldn't," he answered quietly, "Not after what she did to you."

"But you love her," Sam pointed out.

"I don't date crazy women who want to kill me, Sammy," Dean rolled his eyes. Sam closed his eyes for a moment, but opened them again.

"How did she do it?"

"Elizabeth Jones," Dean started, "She was a spirit reenacting her death through her victims. Fortunately for them, she didn't have the juice to actually kill them, which is why they were perfectly fine the next day."

"But what about the names?" Sam asked, "How did Lindsey convince her to attack those people?"

"She picked up a few tricks from your friend," Dean said bitterly. Sam frowned. "Hartman."

"Donna? She was working against us the whole time?" Sam asked, surprised and a little humiliated that he had trusted her so much.

"No," Dean admitted grudgingly, "After our incident ten years ago, Lindsey went back to Donna and demanded to know the truth. She picked up a few tricks and threw this little reunion together."

"What about that night at the bar though?"

"Another witch trick," Dean said shortly.

"Donna again?" Sam asked.

"I'm not sure. It was heavy duty mind control considering the effects didn't wear off even once Bailey left the bar," Dean leaned back in his chair, "She was here a little while ago by the way."

"Who?"

"Donna," Dean nodded towards a card propped up on the bedside table.

"She say anything?" Sam asked, opening the card.

"Said she was sorry and wished us luck." Sam read through the card.

"Enjoy the chocolate," Sam read. He looked up at his brother who cleared his throat and looked away. "Did you enjoy the chocolate Dean?" he chuckled.

"They were cheap," Dean shrugged. Sam put the card back on the table and closed his eyes.

"How long am I here for?"

"Well, you're stable, but they want to keep you a couple of days to make sure." They were quiet a moment and then Dean spoke again, "Sam don't you dare scare me like that again."

"Ok," Sam nodded, "Can you do me a favor?" Dean waited. "Don't ever introduce me to any of your ex girlfriends."

**So? I wasn't sure how to explain the supernatural parts with Lindsey being human and all. I don't really feel that there was a whole lot of realism with Sam getting shot, but I couldn't kill him any more than I could kill Dean. Thanks for reading!**


End file.
